A bunch of wild boys was hanging around. At the local neighborhood saloon. And some cat kept dropping quarters down in the jukebox. Playing all the favorite tunes.
Supahero. Baby I'm your star, but you looking for a super hero. And Superman don't fly no more cause he ain't one with the people. He ain't nowhere to be found, when he should be fighting evil.
I had forgotten the incredible butter softness of his long fingers. How they felt on my back when he slow-dragged with me,. At a fateful "Blue Lights in the Basement" party.